


In which Crowley discovers pornography

by Rhaegal (RhaegalKS)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Time, Fluff, M/M, PWP, Shameless Smut, Wingfic, naive Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 10:19:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19743688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhaegalKS/pseuds/Rhaegal
Summary: Very much does what it says on the tin: Crowley is intrigued by pornography. Aziraphale likes to educate. Smut ensues.





	In which Crowley discovers pornography

**Author's Note:**

> So I was in the middle of working on something angsty and then this came out. Idk.
> 
> Do I believe for a minute that Crowley really made it to the year of our lord 2k19 without knowing about porn? Of course not. Probably he just likes to have Aziraphale explain things to him.
> 
> Thanks to the lovely Tracionn for the beta.

*

“Door’s open,” Crowley called.

It was rare for Aziraphale to go to Crowley’s flat. It had that uncomfortably unlived-in feel to it, primarily because it wasn’t really lived in. Aziraphale’s bookshop with its comfortable old chairs was a much more appealing place to while away the post-not-apocalyptic days.

Today, though, Crowley was having a new televisual entertainment system installed, and had insisted on meeting here before going to dinner. Aziraphale could hear it before he even opened the door, and the sounds coming from it were quite strange.

As he moved into the living room, he caught a glimpse of the screen, which appeared to be filled with entirely too much naked human flesh, and hastily turned away. “Oh, good lord,” he said.

“I was curious,” Crowley explained. “They just broadcast this through the airwaves now, did you know that?” He tilted his head, trying to follow the mechanics of the humans’ positions. “Strange, what these humans get up to, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale darted a wary glance at the screen, where two human men were engaged in mutual oral stimulation. “Well,” he said, “that can be rather, ah, pleasant.”

Crowley’s eyes went wide. “You’ve tried it?”

Aziraphale felt himself blush, embarrassed but secretly a little thrilled that he was still able to shock Crowley. “Yes, well, it’s important to blend in.”

Crowley gave him a pointed look up and down, taking in the clothing that definitely did not serve to help him blend in to twenty-first century London. He smirked. “Yeah, no, makes sense actually. I mean, you enjoy food, why wouldn’t you go in for other…” he made a vague gesture towards the screen.

“Earthly pleasures?” Aziraphale supplied.

“It’s just, you’d think that would be more my lot’s thing. You’re supposed to be all… pure and what have you.”

“Really, my dear,” Aziraphale sighed, “you know perfectly well the Almighty cares an awful lot less about the activities of consenting adults than some humans like to claim. Now would you please turn that off?”

Crowley was still studying him carefully, with a look that suggested he had never seen him before. Slowly, he turned his attention back to the screen, where the participants had progressed to anal intercourse. He watched it for a few uncomfortable seconds before, with apparent reluctance, turning it off with a wave of his hand.

Aziraphale heaved a sigh of relief, thinking that was quite enough of that. “Well, then,” he said, “shall we to dinner?”

“Can you show me?”

Aziraphale was confused for a moment, thinking they’d been to this particular restaurant many times before and Crowley was already perfectly familiar with it. And then his brain caught up. “You – you can’t be suggesting – “ he sputtered.

“Why not?” Crowley asked, for all the world like he had in fact asked to be shown directions to the Ritz.

“It’s not – it’s not the done thing. And we are not discussing it further. You can indulge your curiosity on your own time.”

Aziraphale turned for the door, issuing a silent prayer that Crowley would drop this subject and follow him. The demon hesitated just a moment, just long enough to allow dread to settle in Aziraphale’s stomach, but then he picked up his jacket and followed.

Aziraphale heaved another long sigh and gestured towards the door. “After you.”

*

After dinner, they were walking through the park, the evening’s earlier awkwardness utterly forgotten, when out of the blue Crowley asked, “So who do you do it with?”

“Excuse me?” Aziraphale thought back over the pleasant conversation they’d been having about Sondheim, trying to piece together the non-sequitur.

“The sex. Feels weird that I don’t know him. Or her. Them.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale’s stomach sank. So this subject hadn’t been dropped, then. “No one currently.”

A strange look crossed Crowley’s face, something like relief. “Who was the last one, then?” he pressed. “And I swear, if you say Gabriel I reserve the right to judge you.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Oh come now, I can hardly see Gabriel sullying the celestial temple of his body with such frivolity.”

There was a wicked gleam in Crowley’s eyes. “What about your celestial temple?”

Aziraphale had never thought it possible for eyebrows to make an obscene gesture, but that was precisely what Crowley’s were doing right now.

“Why are you suddenly so determined to pry into the details of my private life?”

“Because I didn’t know you _had_ a private life. C’mon, how long have we known each other? Six thousand years? How often do I get to discover a whole new thing about you?”

“Oscar Wilde,” Aziraphale blurted before he could think better of it. He felt blood rush to his face. “He – he was the last.”

“Huh,” Crowley grinned. “Yeah, honestly, that’s the least surprising name you could have given me.”

“At any rate,” said Aziraphale, “I’m surprised you haven’t… experimented, yourself. Thought it would be a requirement in your line of work.”

“My line of work?”

“Tempting.”

“Ah.” Crowley screwed up his face. “Not my style. I just like to cause widespread low-grade annoyance.”

“Or in some cases, concentrated annoyance,” Aziraphale muttered to himself.

“What was that?”

“You _are_ a widespread low-grade annoyance,” Aziraphale amended.

“’s what makes me good at my job,” Crowley grinned. “Now back to the sex…”

“Oh, give me strength,” Aziraphale sighed. “If you want to experiment, I have some books on the subject.”

“Your dusty old bookshop has porn in it?”

“That is a _carefully cultivated_ layer of dust, thank you very much, and I don’t have pornography, I have erotica.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Ah…” Aziraphale glanced up at the sky. “Artistic merit, I think.”

Crowley looked crestfallen. “Does that mean no pictures?”

“I believe there are _some_ pictures. Well, etchings.”

Crowley positively cackled. “Well, then, would you like to take me back to your dusty abode to view your etchings, then?”

Aziraphale decided it was best, all things considered, to feign ignorance of the sarcasm. He adopted his most patient expression and gestured for Crowley to lead the way towards Soho.

*

“See, I’m not sure I understand what’s going on here.”

Aziraphale looked up from his cocoa. Crowley was turning his book upside down, squinting at the page. With a heavy sigh, Aziraphale set down his mug, crossed the room and peered over the top of the page.

“Ah,” he said. “That’s what the young men in your cinematic show were demonstrating earlier. These days the humans call it sixty-nineing.”

Crowley gave him a nonplussed look.

Aziraphale moved behind Crowley to get a better view of the page. “Here, see, this gentleman is stimulating the other’s genitalia with his mouth, while he simultaneously returns the favour.”

Crowley turned the book around again, squinting. “And that’s…fun?”

“Oh yes,” said Aziraphale, trying not to sound too eager. “A little advanced, though.” At Crowley’s quizzical look, he clarified, “It can be somewhat tricky to concentrate on the task at hand, if you catch my drift.”

“Not really,” Crowley grumbled. He flicked through the pages and found a new drawing. “What about this one?”

“Oh, now that’s most straightforward. You can even do that yourself. Just with your hand, you see,” he pointed.

Crowley turned to look at him, close enough that Aziraphale could see the little flecks of orange in his yellow eyes. Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat, and he decided it would be for the best if he just refrained from breathing for a while.

“Do you do this, then?” Crowley asked. “By yourself, I mean?”

Best stop his heartbeat, too, before the pounding in his ears deafened him. “Sometimes,” he said. He was going for breezy nonchalance, but it came out a little choked on account of the not breathing. He reluctantly took a shaky breath. “It’s more fun with someone else, of course.”

“Yeah?” Crowley snapped the book shut. Aziraphale couldn’t look away from his eyes. Crowley’s yellow irises expanded so that there were no whites in the corners of his eyes. He saw a little quirk of a smile as Crowley said, “Show me?”

Aziraphale wasn’t aware of moving, but suddenly his lips were brushing over Crowley’s. They were dry and a little chapped, but the contact sent a tingling sensation down his spine. He hurriedly pulled away.

“What was that?” said Crowley, touching a hand to his lips.

“A kiss,” Aziraphale said curtly.

“ _Barely_ a kiss,” Crowley grumbled, but he made a frustrated sound when Aziraphale straightened up and took a step away. 

As Aziraphale started to push books aside to clear space on his desk, Crowley continued, “I mean, that was downright _chaste_ , angel. And there you had me thinking you were –“

“Shut up,” said Aziraphale. He gestured towards the newly cleared desk. “And sit.”

Crowley leaped up with unselfconscious eagerness and positively hopped onto the desk. He crossed his ankles and swung his legs, grinning.

“Legs apart,” Aziraphale instructed. Crowley’s eyebrows shot up, but he complied, letting his knees fall apart. He leaned back, resting on his hands laid flat on the desk behind him. Aziraphale swallowed. His trousers were becoming uncomfortably tight. He moved closer, sliding between Crowley’s knees, and placed a finger under Crowley’s chin, directing him to look up.

There was hunger in Crowley’s eyes, so exposed that Aziraphale couldn’t find it within himself to mask his own craving. His breathing resumed, unbidden, and it came shaky and uneven. He leaned in, and gently ran his tongue over Crowley’s lower lip. Crowley responded with a growl, and grasped handfuls of fabric at Aziraphale’s waist. Aziraphale slid his hands down Crowley’s shoulders and pulled him close as his tongue dipped into the demon’s mouth.

Crowley’s tongue flickered against his, and Aziraphale felt fire begin to pool in his belly. He pressed closer, seeking friction against Crowley’s thigh, and he couldn’t control himself from bucking his hips when he found it. A groan ripped from his throat. With one hand, he traced down Crowley’s side and found the waistband of his trousers. He hesitated, awaiting permission.

“Go on,” Crowley gasped against his mouth. “’s good.”

Aziraphale slid his hand around to the front. The buttons were stiff and awkward to operate at this angle, but a minor miracle had them open, and he delved inside. He pressed his palm against Crowley’s groin. He could feel his own erection twitch in response, but some nagging feeling tugged at the back of his mind. He fumbled around, slipped his hand inside Crowley’s underwear, and spread his fingers.

He felt nothing but smooth skin and sparse, coarse hair.

Reluctantly, he broke off the kiss. “Crowley?”

“Mmm?” Crowley was smiling softly, his lips reddened and his hair mussed. It was most distracting.

“ _Crowley_ ,” Aziraphale repeated.

“What? Why’d you stop?”

Aziraphale rubbed his fingers against smooth skin. Crowley arched his back, his smile broadening into a grin.

Aziraphale sighed. “We can do something else if you prefer, but if you wish me to demonstrate the particular activity in that illustration, you will need to make an effort.”

“An effort?” Crowley’s eyes shot open as he gave Aziraphale an affronted look. “I am making a – oh,” he pressed his groin into Aziraphale’s hand. “You mean you want me to manifest –“

“Yes please,” said Aziraphale patiently.

“Fine.” Crowley’s eyes drifted closed and he threw his head back with a grin.

Something began to grow into Aziraphale’s hand. It started off pliant, but grew harder as it extended out from Crowley’s body until it nicely filled Aziraphale’s hand. But then it kept growing, longer and thicker, bursting out through Crowley’s open fly.

Aziraphale took a step back to take in the sight of him. Crowley still looked utterly debauched and downright delicious, but that… _thing_ … at his crotch was so grotesquely oversized as to be comical.

“Now really,” Aziraphale muttered. “That’s quite unnecessary.”

“Too much?” Crowley said with feigned innocence.

“Perhaps we could start with something a little more, ah, manageable?” Aziraphale suggested.

Crowley sighed. “You’re no fun,” he grumbled. The gargantuan penis retreated, remoulding itself into something more appropriately sized. Still longer than average, perhaps, but slender, like Crowley himself. Aziraphale took a step back towards him and gently traced his fingers over the tip. Crowley’s entire body jerked.

“Is that all right?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley could only manage a strangled noise, but he nodded frantically. Slowly, Aziraphale wrapped his fingers around the length of him, and squeezed. Crowley gasped and his head fell back.

Aziraphale smiled to himself. This was going to be far too easy. He pressed closer and leaned over the demon, tracing his tongue along Crowley’s collarbone as he began to move his hand. He tasted salty beads of sweat on Crowley’s throat, and traced kisses up his neck to his jaw. Meanwhile, his hand settled into a steady rhythm, squeezing just a little as he moved in time with Crowley’s ragged breathing. 

Crowley’s hands were all over him, grasping at fabric, then in his hair, then squeezing his arse. Aziraphale nibbled lightly on an earlobe and twisted his hand just a little so that his thumb grazed over a spot that made Crowley buck his hips and hiss.

“Something’s happening,” Crowley panted.

“Mmm hmm,” Aziraphale murmured against salty skin. “Let it.”

The air around them seemed to crackle. He gave a small squeeze and moved his hand faster, and then Crowley thrashed wildly and let out a long, low hiss as warm liquid spilled over Aziraphale’s hand.

He lifted his hand and licked it while Crowley watched, wide eyed, then discreetly miracled them both clean.

“Satisfied, my dear?” said Aziraphale, struggling to keep his voice calm.

Crowley could still manage only strangled sounds. He slumped backwards, his spent cock still hanging out of his trousers, occasional shudders coursing through his body.

He was quite beautiful. Aziraphale had always thought so, but had never dared imagine he would see him like this. His own insistent arousal began pulsing in his stomach. He could miracle it away, but it felt good to indulge himself for just a moment. To ease the ache, he pressed the palm of his hand over the front of his trousers.

Crowley suddenly shot up to a seated position. “That was brilliant,” he grinned. “What’s next?”

“Next?” Aziraphale arched an eyebrow.

Crowley’s eyes swept him up and down, lingering over the bulge at his crotch. “Can I try the mouth thing on you?”

“The mouth thing,” Aziraphale repeated weakly.

“I bet you taste of crepes,” Crowley mused aloud.

“I highly doubt that.” Aziraphale tried to adjust his clothing in a futile attempt to make himself appear presentable. “Perhaps we should retire to the bedroom?”

Crowley grinned. “Never seen your bedroom. Wasn’t sure you had one.”

Aziraphale gestured for Crowley to follow him. He paused, allowing time for the demon to adjust his clothing, but Crowley made no move to do so, moving quite unselfconsciously towards him with his trousers and underwear pulled down and his cock hanging out. A fond smile quirked at the edge of Aziraphale’s mouth, and he led the way upstairs.

His flat was for appearances more than anything, and was rarely used. His bed was large and fussy, adorned with too many cushions, as befit the sort of human he pretended to be. It was perfectly made, with no appearance of ever having been used. Aziraphale quietly miracled away the layer of dust before perching on the edge.

Crowley came to stand in front of him, a predatory glint in his eyes. He placed one knee on the bed beside Aziraphale and, steadying himself with a hand on the angel’s shoulder, went to straddle him. He couldn’t quite get his legs that far apart, though, with his trousers and undergarments bunched just above his knees, so he fell in an untidy heap onto Aziraphale’s lap, knocking him down onto his back. With a grumble, he shot to his feet and deftly miracled away his clothing. Aziraphale felt a momentary pang of disappointment that he was going to be denied the chance to undress Crowley, but that was swiftly overshadowed by the warm tingling feeling that spread through him at the sight of Crowley’s body.

He was the opposite of Aziraphale in every way, all angles and lines and shadows. Aziraphale ran his hands reverently over slender hips, and pressed a kiss to his flat, firm stomach. He began mouthing his way downwards, distantly aware that the organ beneath his chin had begun to stir once more.

“Nuh uh,” Crowley interrupted him. With hands on his shoulders, he pushed Aziraphale back and regarded him with a wicked smile. “My turn. Lie down.”

Aziraphale wanted to protest that he had been enjoying his activity, but the glint in Crowley’s eye rendered him quite incapable of forming a coherent argument. It was easier all round to just obey, he reasoned, as he scrambled backwards to the head of the bed and lay down.

In an instant, Crowley was looming over him, pinning him in place with those eyes. “Now this is more like it,” Crowley murmured. His deft tongue flickered delightfully behind Aziraphale’s ear and worked its way down his jawline to his neck.

Aziraphale felt hands tugging at his bow tie. Crowley scraped teeth gently over his collarbone, causing a tantalising prickle to radiate along his nerves, and then lapped at the skin with his tongue.

“You wear entirely too many clothes,” Crowley growled against his throat.

“You could always miracle them away,” Aziraphale suggested, but he silently hoped he wouldn’t because being undressed felt so much more decadent.

Perhaps he’d accidentally said that out loud, or perhaps Crowley just agreed with him, because he made no move to hurry the proceedings miraculously along. Once the bow tie was discarded, he made short work of the waistcoat, but took his time over the shirt. For every button he undid, he traced the skin underneath with his tongue, murmuring in incoherent delight as he went.

For Aziraphale, it was exquisite torture. He didn’t know what to do with his hands: one minute he was grasping fistfuls of duvet and squirming, the next he was twisting his fingers in Crowley’s hair or gently running nails down his spine.

By the time Crowley gestured for him to sit up so they could discard his shirt, his dignity was thoroughly abandoned. He gathered Crowley in his arms, kissing him deeply, and wrapped arms around his waist, pulling him close. But Crowley extricated himself from the embrace and rearranged them into their previous position. His head was down by Aziraphale’s stomach, and he was nuzzling his soft belly. Tightness constricted Aziraphale’s chest, but then Crowley looked up to meet his eyes, smiling, and Aziraphale’s discomfort melted.

He felt Crowley’s hands working on his belt, then the buttons of his fly, and then his head dipped down and he placed a firm, loud kiss against his hardened cock. Even through the layers of fabric it felt divine, and Aziraphale eagerly bucked his hips, desperate for more. Crowley stilled his hips with his hands, and tugged down his trousers and underwear in one swift motion. 

As Aziraphale’s erection sprang free of its confinement, Crowley pulled back to look at it. A grin spread over his face. “How long have you been hiding this?” he said, his eyes widening.

“Since – ah!” – Crowley had just dipped down and _licked_ him – “since Rome, I believe.”

“Rome?” Crowley arched an eyebrow. “I should’ve guessed, with the whole oyster thing.”

As if to remind himself of past culinary delicacies, Crowley lowered his head and took him fully into his mouth. Aziraphale arched up helplessly, and his hands instinctively moved to Crowley’s head, fingers winding around his hair. He tried not to grip too hard, but couldn’t help it when he felt the flicker of that tongue all the way up and down his cock. He let his head fall back, eyes screwed shut, as his entire world narrowed to the warm mouth engulfing him.

Decades of fantasies about that tongue were nothing compared to the reality of how it felt. Alternately teasing and firm, seemingly everywhere at once, shooting tendrils of fire along every nerve in Aziraphale’s body. He was distantly aware that a litany of blasphemy was pouring from his lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He felt Crowley’s hands wedge under his arse and lift him, positively _encouraging_ him to thrust, and Aziraphale obliged, frantically, unevenly, desperately plunging as deeply as he could. Oh, it was _wonderful_ to do this with someone who didn’t need to breathe.

Suddenly, he felt cool air blowing over the inferno of his skin. He darted his eyes open, to be greeted by the magnificent sight of Crowley’s black wings spread out in front of him, beating steadily to keep him balanced against Aziraphale’s helpless thrusting.

Aziraphale untangled his hands from Crowley’s hair, seeking purchase on the bed to lift himself up. Crowley glanced up to meet his eyes without faltering in his task. Aziraphale held his gaze as he slowly unfurled his wings. He saw Crowley’s eyes go wide in wonder, felt his pace pick up, his hands grasp frantically at his arse.

“Wait,” Aziraphale gasped. He hauled himself back to a seated position. Crowley slowed down and lifted an eyebrow in question, but didn’t stop. It was a glorious sight; wings extended, yellow eyes fixed on him, mouth stretched around Aziraphale’s erection. It almost made him lose his train of thought, but then he remembered, “Turn around.”

Crowley frowned, confused. “So I can reach,” Aziraphale gestured towards Crowley’s crotch.

Crowley released his cock with a long, obscene slurp. “You sure that’s not too advanced?” he teased.

“Just turn around.”

Crowley swung his hips onto the bed, and Aziraphale arranged them so that the demon was straddling his face. He buried his face in Crowley’s groin, inhaling the heady scent of him, and then took the entire length into his mouth in one long gulp.

Crowley let out a yelp, but hurriedly reciprocated; Aziraphale felt himself being drawn back into the warmth of his mouth, and felt that tongue wrap around him once more. He grasped Crowley’s hips, trying to settle them into a steady rhythm, but they were both bucking their hips erratically. Crowley’s groans caused a delightful humming sensation around Aziraphale’s cock; he tried to replicate that for Crowley, and all at once the demon’s entire body went into spasm and thick, salty liquid spilled over Aziraphale’s tongue.

Aziraphale flopped back on the bed, bucking his hips, wings squirming and vibrating with pleasure. Crowley had stilled only for a moment but now was moving faster and faster, and the pressure was building up from Aziraphale’s core, radiating outwards, and at last it exploded, a supernova behind his eyes.

Aziraphale lay still, occasionally twitching, as the sensations subsided into gentle lassitude. He grumbled a weak protest as he felt Crowley pull away from him, but he just turned himself back around and then curled around Aziraphale’s middle, his head lying on his stomach.

“I do all right, then?” Crowley murmured. He stretched his jaw, snake-like, and settled closer.

“Mmm hmm,” Aziraphale agreed. He stretched out his wings and curled them around him, holding him close. Crowley was breathing; deep, even breaths. Aziraphale unconsciously matched him, and felt calm wash over him.

Crowley pressed a kiss against his stomach. “Didn’t think I’d get to do much tempting any more,” he mused, “what with being a retired demon and all.”

Aziraphale went still. Crowley laid a trail of kisses over to his waist and back to his navel. “Relax,” he said. “I was telling the truth. Never did this before. Wanted to, though. With you. Can’t imagine it would be as good with a human.”

Aziraphale absently ran a hand through Crowley’s hair, down his spine, and along his shoulder blades to where his wings thrust out from his back. Crowley gave a delightful little shiver. “No,” Aziraphale agreed. “It’s not.”

“Good thing we saved the world, really.”

Aziraphale hummed noncommittally. He had his doubts that they’d had much at all to do with saving the world, really, but he was certainly grateful that it had been saved.

He felt Crowley move, and looked down to see that he was twisting himself around to look at the new appendage between his legs. He shot a quizzical look up at Aziraphale. “You want me to keep this?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “Not if you don’t want to. You can always manifest it for special occasions, if you like. Or we can do other things.”

Crowley smiled and snuggled closer. He was draped over Aziraphale’s body and had managed to tangle their legs together in a way Aziraphale could only describe as serpentine. “Humans are brilliant sometimes,” Crowley mused. “They take all these necessary functions and make them so _enjoyable_. Like sleep.” On cue, he yawned. “Is it all right if I sleep now?”

“Of course.” Aziraphale stroked a wing over Crowley’s back. He wasn’t in the habit of sleeping himself, but he was quite certain he’d be fine with staying in this position forever. And if Crowley would stop talking, so much the better.

Crowley’s breathing deepened as he relaxed into unconsciousness. Aziraphale carried on watching him for a time; the steady rise and fall of his shoulders, the occasional tremors that spread through his wings. The way he was wrapped around Aziraphale could only be described as cuddling, though the angel would never say that out loud.

Aziraphale settled himself back against the pillows, absently stroking Crowley’s hair with his hands, his back with his wings. He smiled to himself. _Oh well_ , he thought, _if Crowley can still try new human things, perhaps I can too_.

For the first time in six thousand years, Aziraphale fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy shameless smut, here's a shameless plug: Tracionn and I are running a small Aziraphale/Crowley-focused convention in the UK on October 18-20 2019. You can find out more and join us at [theineffablecon.org.uk](https://theineffablecon.org.uk).


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